


Not In The Room

by Jyou_no_Sonoko



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: (and so does Lilith), Asexual Character, F/F, Hallucinations, Mary is the softest and I love her so much, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Queerplatonic Relationships, exploration of asexuality, implied PTSD, marith, persistence of nightmare into waking, so many gentle touches and metaphors, these things can and do co-exist, with allosexual life partner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyou_no_Sonoko/pseuds/Jyou_no_Sonoko
Summary: Lilith experiences a nightmare that does not fade upon waking, and she is stuck amidst threatening hallucinations, which she at first denies upon hearing Mary's concern. Once Mary's stubborn and practiced intervention helps to clear the phantoms, the mortal reveals that there is a gift she would like to give Lilith, as an additional attempt to push back the prevailing darkness from her thoughts.
Relationships: Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith/Original Mary Wardwell
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Not In The Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexusOnFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexusOnFire/gifts).



> This fic was an exploration of many things, but most notable would be Mary's asexuality and the place sex can play in a complex partnership when boundaries aren't rigid and communication is strong. There is a lot of confusion around asexuality, one common assumption being that all ace folks are sex-repulsed, where a great many are in fact merely sex-neutral (as is the case with AfM Mary). Mary knows the importance of sexuality to Lilith, which co-exists with the importance of non-sexual intimate touch to both of them, and as such, lines are allowed to be blurred, without either party losing their distinct orientations. All this to say, exploration and understandings of what it means to be ace/greyace/demisexual is very important to me, personally and as a writer, so I hope you'll enjoy this attempt to foster that!

Mary recognised the tight, distressed breathing, the minuscule twitching of facial muscles and fingers, and put her book aside. If she was lucky, she would be able to save Lilith from this one without waking her.

Slowly, gently, she lowered a hand to rest upon the side of Lilith's head, cushioned by thick dark waves that obscured most of the pillow. The touch was gradual enough that the witch did not startle, but likewise it seemed to have no effect on her anxiety. Which, judging by the deep frown cutting between her arched brows, was growing ever stronger.

Mary tried to make the sound, that mysterious crooning that Lilith could create so effortlessly from her throat and which chased all manner of dread out of Mary's mind; they had the same voice, in theory, and in theory therefore, Mary should be able to do it. She had attempted it many times, in situations such as these, to no avail. But there was nothing to be lost by trying once more.

Nary two notes had left her, when Lilith's eyes snapped open, and a rolling tremble shot across her body, which Mary felt acutely through her hand and halfway up her arm.

“Lilith, you're in bed, with Mary. You're home, there's no danger,” she said, quickly and cooly, as she always did, using only the most important words to try to cut through whatever had followed Lilith through into consciousness.

Lilith's eyes darted around, and she took quick, sharp breaths through her nose while her thin lips remained tightly closed. One hand slipped free of the blanket and lay palm up, waiting for Mary to take it, to tether her.

Eventually she spoke past her quaking, her words clipped and strained. “Thank you. I know. I'm in bed.”

“And you're safe.”

“Of course.” But both her voice and her eyes were entirely unconvinced.

“Look at me, Lilith.”

For a moment it seemed like she wouldn't dare, at the risk of taking her eyes off whatever she was seeing, but eventually she met Mary's gaze, sending a muted scream of terror in a look.

“You're safe,” Mary repeated.

“All right,” Lilith said and closed her eyes, forced back her shoulders, unballed her hands. Her body grew still and her breathing normalised. “Thank you, Mary, I'm fine. Please, go back to your reading.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I'll just take a while and collect my thoughts.”

“If you're certain.” She retrieved her book, wiped off her glasses, and opened to her bookmark. But she had been struck with suspicion, and furtively monitored Lilith's face.

The First Witch's eyelids drooped lazily, and her lower lip fell slightly open, the only lines on her face being the regular ones which she had stolen from Mary.

But there was something, and Mary searched until she found it, straining in the low light: a muscle in the middle of Lilith's forehead was scarcely moving, barely a tick, but it would not for an instant fully relax.

Mary shifted her attention again to Lilith's eyes, and noted that she was staring straight forward, unwavering, which was odd, since usually when Lilith 'collected her thoughts', her eyes would take the scenic path around the room, dwelling for some time at both ceiling and floor.

“Liar,” Mary sighed, not unkindly.

There was a delay before the word reached Lilith's awareness. “No.”

“You are. You're pretending.”

“Stop worrying, Mary.” She shut her eyes fully, insisting upon her relaxed state. But the slight curl of her upper lip gave her away.

“It's still here, isn't it? You're still there.”

The tell-tale muscle twitched more obviously before Lilith could still it, and was soon joined by others. “It's nothing. They're just... taking a while to fade.”

“I don't like that, Lilith.”

“I am not all that enamoured of it myself, Mary. But please. Stop worrying.”

Which was a ludicrous thing to say to one Mary Wardwell.

Putting aside her book once more, she rolled out of bed and walked across the room to stand in the area where Lilith's eyes had been affixed.

“Stop that,” said Lilith, irritation tinted with fear.

“What am I interrupting?”

“Please move.”

“Am I in danger, standing here?”

“Of course not. But you're acting ridiculously.”

“Oh? Then I suppose,” she lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the carpet, “there's no reason I shouldn't take a moment to relax here, is there?”

“Mary, please stop.”

“Then tell me.”

Lilith sighed hoarsely and pressed her fingers to her eyes. “You're right. They're still here. And you're standing right in the middle of them. And... him.”

“What are they doing?”

“Just... staring at me. Ringing the bed. Waiting for me to move, to _bolt_.”

“Are you going to do that?”

“Of course not.”

“What will happen if you do?”

Lilith's face contorted and she looked away, refusing to engage with the question.

Having gained her admission, Mary moved to sit at the foot of the bed. “How do I make them leave?” The question was a quiet plea.

“You don't,” Lilith apologised, eyes still averted. “They'll leave when they're bored.”

“But... they're not really here.”

Lilith returned to glare at her, as though insulted. “I know that.”

“Then they can't make decisions.”

“Are you trying to make fun of me, Mary? While he towers over you, mouths hanging open and eyes ablaze?”

“I'm not making fun of you.” Mary moved on her hands and knees, then knelt in Lilith's haunted line of sight. “I'm saying that we make the decisions here. Not him. Never him.”

“He's laughing at you now.”

Mary's face grew stern, not at Lilith but at the temerity of the phantom. “Am I a joke to you?” she spoke to the empty air. “Because I'm just a mortal?”

“A mortal and a woman.”

“Then he's a fool.”

“He is. He always was. For that reason and more.” Even with her firm words, however, Lilith's eyes yet shone with fear, her sight going back, again and again, to the space above Mary's head.

Mary placed a hand lightly upon Lilith's middle, insisting that she be the focal point. “I've been suffering fools for years. They work alongside me, and I suffer them, because... it's the expected thing to do. The respectable thing to do. And they attend my classes, and I suffer them, because it's my job to try and improve their behaviour. Because I'm expected to have endless patience. But, the truth is, I don't. I have limits. And one of those limits is allowing fools into my home.” She tilted her head, side-eyed the air. “They're not welcome here. Do you remember the warding, Lilith? The one you taught me?”

Lilith had managed to keep her eyes fixed upon Mary's lips, allowing Mary's narrative to conjure mundane images in her mind. She nodded: “' _Only love may enter here._ '”

“Only love,” Mary confirmed. “So that means you alone.”

Lilith's face rebelled at the affection, but she did not look away, lifted her chin to gaze determinedly above Mary's head.

“Tell them to leave,” Mary urged gently.

A deep breath filled and exited Lilith's chest, and she shut her eyes, imagining a banishing spell for her own subconscious. “I am,” she whispered. “I'm trying.”

In the meantime, Mary lowered herself to lie beside Lilith, and wrapped an arm across her chest. “I love you, Lilith,” she murmured into the First Witch's neck.

A strangled, wordless protest snuck out of Lilith's throat, though nothing more. She breathed, and she waited.

“Are we alone?”

Lilith cautiously surveyed the room. “Yes.”

“Good. Because there's something I've been wanting to give you. And it's no business of theirs.”

“Give me?” Her voice had changed, the colours of her nightmare fading. She was intrigued.

“Yes. I've been thinking about it a lot. And... I want to do it for you.”

Lilith's intrigue spread further across her features, a smile flicking at the corner of her lip at Mary's slow lead-up.

And she continued to be slow. “I know we spoke about this before. In what seems... almost like another life. Or... the beginning of this one. When I told you... when we spoke about Adam,” her voice tightened around his name, but only briefly, “and I said that I loved him, _truly_ loved him, but that I'd never...”

“I recall,” Lilith said, as though to spare Mary the rest of the explanation. But she did not want to be spared it, shook her head for patience.

“That I'd never been inclined to... pursue a sexual relationship with him. Because that urge has never occurred within me. I understand now that it is just who I am, and that there's nothing wrong with that. Which is in large part due to you, I think.” She sent a quick look of gratitude Lilith's way, and was pleased to see her acknowledge and accept it with a gracious nod.

“But,” she continued, “you're not like me.”

“No,” sighed Lilith, lightly toying with the tresses which had escaped from Mary's braid.

“You enjoy those pleasures.”

“In an ideal world, yes. Though I'll not pretend that the ratio from pleasant to _un_ pleasant has been especially in my favour.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

Lilith further twirled Mary's hair, interlaced it with her fingers. “ _Well_.”

“But I want to... I'd like to give that to you. You know how deeply I care about you—”

“Some part of my time-addled brain has taken note of that, yes.”

“And I just think that... if I can give you one more piece of happiness throughout the day, to... try and push back the darkness... then I want to do that.”

“But you don't have any interest in it.”

Mary shrugged. “I wouldn't choose to do it for my own enjoyment, no, but... you listened to me go on and on about how to prune the lavender bushes, and you even sat and did it with me, even though you weren't interested. I could tell you were bored to death by the end.”

“I knew it was important to you. And it really didn't cost me anything to...” she paused, gave an amused smile. “I see.”

“I'm glad. So, will you accept it? Can I give you my...”

Lilith breathed out, her smile dipping to her chest, as she entirely failed to temper the fondness in her pale eyes. “You may.”

“Thank you.”

“Why would you thank _me_?”

“Because I've never done this before. And I recognise that it might not be exactly what you deserve.”

“Oh Mary.” Lilith freed her hands from brown tresses, and ran the knuckle of her littlest finger across Mary's cheek. “You're already far more than I deserve.”

“I hate that you think that. But... thank you.”

They lay in silence for some time, Lilith absent-mindedly playing her fingers across Mary's cheek and neck, Mary contemplating with her hands, until Lilith brought a single finger to rest on the tip of Mary's nose and waited for the woman's eyes to raise to hers.

“You meant now. Didn't you?”

Mary folded her lips inward, pursed them, raised her eyebrows sheepishly, and nodded.

“I see. You'd like the opportunity to push out the remaining 'darkness' which still lurks in my head.”

“I would.”

“They're not here anymore, it's true. Not in the room. But I can still feel them behind my eyes. And... something on my tongue as well. So, yes. I will accept your offering.”

They noted at the same time that Lilith had used the vocabulary of the worshipped, an old memory floating up from a place of contentedness, and neither of them remarked upon it. The sentiment, after all, was accurate.

As someone imminently experienced in coaxing lovers to action, Lilith slipped free of the sheets and, with a deft movement of her thumb, undid her robe and allowed it to pool around her, cool emerald satin contrasting with her tanned body. She lay back, still as a painting, and allowed Mary the time to overcome her bashfulness and take in the languid form that was somehow so different to her own.

She had seen Lilith's nudity flashed around the house many, many times, of course; when comfortable and secure, the witch wore only what most suited her at the time. Which, on balmy nights, spent lounging on the rug before the hearth, might be skilfully-wrapped silk shawls, or might be nothing at all.

But she had never had that nudity presented to her in anticipation.

For a moment, she regretted her offer, dreading the inevitable failure of her inexperienced hands. And Lilith did not miss the signs of it.

“It's rather poetic, really,” she smiled, resettling herself in a way which called attention to her every contour, “to find myself as both the First Woman... and your first woman as well.” She conveyed the beauty of that notion across her face.

Mary felt the smile spread to her own face, warmed by the gentle words. “It is poetic. Thank you.”

“Not that I expect you to feel especially honoured by it.”

A little laugh slipped free of her anxieties. “Oh I don't think there's any way I can avoid feeling that. You're...” the seconds built up and she shook her head, unable to come up with a fitting descriptor. “There's no one like you.”

“By my very nature. Yes.”

“And yet you're here, in my bedroom. Of all the places you could be. Of all the women you could be sitting with...”

“It's so quiet here.”

“It is.”

“Of all the places I could be, this is the one which brings me the most peace. And here I shall remain.”

Mary's hand had crept over her heart at that, tightening against her cotton nightshirt. She knew these things, of course. But hearing them flow so softly and genuinely off Lilith's tongue, it filled yet again that aching space which tended to fall open in her chest; it made her feel competent, needed, and trusted.

And so, with that bolstering fullness, she leaned down to Lilith, rested her head on the First Witch's breastbone, enjoying the slow rise and fall of it beneath her cheek, and the sound of those peaceful, blessed breaths. She ran a cautious hand down Lilith's ribcage, and watched intently as her fingertips slipped over each rib, until they abruptly ran out of hurdles and continued down and out of sight, across the soft dip of Lilith's waist, to the firm angle of her hipbone. All this earned her a contented sigh and the faintest of dimpling. She repeated the motion once more, finding the flow of it meditative, then lightly ran her fingers over Lilith's breast, which lay mere inches from her mouth. In response, she felt a tiny arching beneath her, as Lilith's spine pressed against the bed, in time with her swift inhalation.

The physical feedback was entirely sufficient, and Mary had no interest in marring the serene air around them with needless noise, just to get spoken confirmation of it.

She yearned to look up at Lilith's face, to see what sort of happiness she may have brought forth, but made herself wait.

Instead she reached down, closing her eyes to be led by touch alone, and landed upon Lilith's knee, let her hand dip off into her inner thigh, and caressed her unhurriedly, up along the sharpest point of her hip, the slight curve of her stomach, ending with the softest of single-fingered flourishes atop Lilith's nipple.

The rush of Lilith's hitching breath brought gentle delight to Mary's lips, and she knew Lilith could feel the smile against her skin, which made it all the better. Adoration brimming, she shifted her weight onto her hands, leaning in to place a delicate kiss atop Lilith's breast, another below it, and a third at the dip of her solar plexus.

Lilith's breathing had little traces of voice in it now, stray, involuntary sounds of appreciation. Mary found it hard to believe that this same respiration had so recently been fraught with shudders of fear: under her inexperienced but nurturing hands, all the tension seemed to have melted out of Lilith's body.

Momentarily lost in her reflection, Mary had all but ceased her movements, and soon felt shifting beneath her: Lilith had raised herself up onto an elbow, and locked misty eyes with Mary, as she drew back her left foot and lifted her knee, so that her reclining pelvis lay at a tilt. The instruction was implicit and Mary lost another few moments to doubt, where this further challenge was concerned. Lilith's face was neutral, her lids heavy, but something in her eyes was growing more insistent, and Mary could not say how she found herself at the foot of the bed, her lips tracing kisses up Lilith's inner thighs, but she felt no further worry in doing so.

In a less dreamy state of mind, the sight of those eerily familiar nether regions so close to her face might have been alarming, but in the blushing present, she understood that familiarity to be in her favour. She kissed Lilith's lips, which had tilted to meet her, then sought between them with the tip of her tongue, to where she knew the bud to lie.

A brief, sweet hum purred from Lilith's throat, and her body resettled itself again, her thighs brushing against Mary's shoulders as she stretched her singing sinews.

Mary worked with the delicacy of a jeweller, paying careful attention to what brought forth each coo and sigh from the First Woman, restricting her actions to those alone; before long, however, she heard a quick sound of denial from Lilith, and caught her eye.

“Slow down,” Lilith taught her, with a firmness which might have stung if Mary didn't know her better. “Don't rush me like that.”

Mary nodded, and drew back, placing a glancing kiss upon each inner lip, before resting her head atop the warmth of a hip. She brought up a hand to the curve beneath Lilith's raised thigh, where it dipped sharply in at the tendon, and traced those hollows with a finger, leant in to kiss them deeply, and was rewarded by a smooth, rich sound from Lilith, which put her in mind of honey liqueur.

First stealing a glance for approval, she returned to her ministrations, determined to be more courteous this time in how she directed the ebb and flow of Lilith's tide. Her success was soon evident, as Lilith's jasmine-scented undulations increased and her breath rolled and rumbled from deep in her chest.

“Good,” Lilith whispered, and affection bloomed in Mary's heart so strongly that she felt she must surely be glowing.

“Thank you,” she heard herself say, her voice more youthful than it had any business being.

Steadfastly clinging on despite the mounting waves, Mary poured all her love into the movements of her tongue, and, like gulls laughing high above, Lilith's voice rang out, so exquisitely beautiful that Mary felt tears spring to her eyes, and experienced an intense need to pray.

If this form had been torn apart by misuse, if it had endured unspeakable suffering, if it had housed a spirit so splintered that madness rang out of its every cell, Mary could perceive no hint of it. There was only the taste of something eternal, and the warm, spent body of a human woman, finding herself loved and bathing in it like afternoon sun.

She sought Lilith's hands, clasped them as they slowly ceased their trembling.

“Thank you,” Mary said once again, because Lilith had allowed herself this happiness.

Lilith only chuckled at her, a throaty, playful sound, and Mary marvelled at the remarkable world in which she, the most ordinary of people, might bring joy to the First of them all.

In which she might soothe the spirit of Lilith.


End file.
